


One Player Game

by ghoostlytraash (TrashKin)



Series: The Wattpad Saga [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Gen, Panic Attack, Self Harm, fun fact this story was written as a vent fic, i know the urge to read triggering works can be strong but please dont read it, please dont read if these trigger you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24336469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashKin/pseuds/ghoostlytraash
Summary: Michael was alone in a bathroom, he turns to his old demons for help.
Series: The Wattpad Saga [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756954
Kudos: 2





	One Player Game

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reupload from my old wattpad.  
> PLEASE DONT READ IF ANY OF THE TAGS ARE A TRIGGER FOR YOU  
> I UNDERSTAND THAT SOMETIMES WHEN YOU'RE IN A BAD PLACE YOU FEEL URGED TO READ TRIGGERING FICS  
> BUT PLEASE DONT  
> READ SOME FLUFF  
> LOOK AT SOME BABY ANIMALS  
> LISTEN TO THE BE MORE CHILL SOUNDTRACK

"Move it."  
"Or you'll what?"  
"Get out of my way. Loser." his voice echoed through Michael's mind, he barely noticed that he pushed him to the side, storming out of the bathroom

"Hello! Other people have to pee!" he got snapped out of his thoughts by the drunken, slurred voice of Jenna Rolan, he panicking, trying to think of a way to get out of this situation  
"I'm um... I'm having my period" she was silent for a bit, she probably didn't believe it  
"Take your time, honey" she finally replied, he sighed in relief, sitting on the edge of the bathtub

He was hanging in the bathroom. Alone. On top of all that, crying. All because someone he thought was his friend called him a loser.  
It was pathetic. He should have never gone. Jeremy was way happier without him, anyway.

Jeremy... did he ever even care in the first place? Probably not, seeing how fast away he threw away his "friend" of 12 years. He finally knew what he saw in Christine, they both were acting, Christine did it for a preformance, Jeremy did it for life; nobody could seriously be his friend, who would want to put themself through that?

He felt his chest tighten, his breathing quickened, and his heartrate increased. Jeremy usually felt obligated to help him through these, but he's not here anymore... he'll have to go back to his old method of fixing problems like this...

Jake wouldn't notice if one disappeared, he'll probably assume someone used it for a prank or something; it's just a matter of finding where they are. He checked the cabinets and found a small box, it was filled with several razor blades, he took the one that looked the sharpest, slowly ran the water of the bath, rolled down his sleeve, and leaned it over the side.

It almost felt natural to start doing this again. He dragged the blade into his scarred skin, beads of blood seeping from the wound, an instant familar rush filled his body. He cut through his skin again, and again, and again, blood started dripping from his arm into the water of the bathtub, flowing into the drain. His cuts weren't that deep, he couldn't cut deep now, he didn't want to be a burden on Jake's family, having to remove his bloody corpse from their bathroom...

He heard knocking, he realized he's been taking a while, he quickly rushed to grab gauze and disinfectant, which, strangely enough, was next to the razor box, and then used them to cover his newly opened wounds; he also pocketed the razor, just in case.

He splashed water on his face to both clean his tears, and calm the anxiety not relieved from the euphoria of cutting, then went to open the door. The knocking ceased. They probably got distracted by whatever weird things the fellow party-goers were doing. They probably assumed he passed out. They probably assumed he died. He wished he died.

He decided just to leave, there was no use being here any longer, he didn't get to do what he came to do. He tried his best to sneak out unseen, avoiding any and all eye contact. He could barely focus while driving, he could crash... he wouldn't mind if he crashed. Nobody would care if he crashed. Nobody would care if he just offed himself when he got home, they'd probably like that, they wouldn't have to deal with him anymore, all he was was an anti-social, worthless, pathetic, useless, waste of space.

He unfortunately got home safely, he had no energy to do anything else, he just laid down on the couch, falling into a deep and unpleasant sleep; where even after the events of life, he couldn't find peace. The universe seemed to hate him, he understood why, he even agreed. God, he is such a loser.


End file.
